


saltwater skin

by creabimus



Category: The Lorien Legacies - All Media Types, The Lorien Legacies - Pittacus Lore
Genre: F/F, during mog war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 02:24:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3833491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creabimus/pseuds/creabimus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The world is ending and you’ve got a storm in your head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	saltwater skin

You kiss her first after swearing to yourself you won’t fall in love again, but she doesn’t push you away like you expect her to.

(You’re lost at sea, you know, yet you cannot control the tides like you used to and you know it’s because of everything Five’s done to you.)

You pull away. You fumble with your words and your eyes fall to the cracks in the concrete knitting together the sidewalk, to the trees overlapping each other with their leaves of gossamer thread, to the fading starlights in the sky that tell you the world is going to end soon.

(It probably already did.)

You don’t remember running away, but you fall to your bed in the too-small apartment out of breath and ready to sleep for a thousand years where all that exists are the stars in the limitless sky.

 

\--

 

When you were a child of six or seven, you swore you could mold the eons into centuries with your fingertips because Adelina always told you you had a great destiny to fulfill. You wonder when you stopped believing that.

 

\--

 

“I think I’m in love with Six.”

You should have said ‘know’ instead of ‘think’, but your life is an endless buffet of mistakes so it isn’t like another one is going to make a difference.

Sarah looks at you with a frown, and when the tears drop down your nose onto the coffee-stained carpet she gathers you in your arms.

You’ve been in this situation before, but never like this before. You wonder if she would understand, then you take in the honey-blonde of her hair and the soft curves of her body and you know she hasn’t.

“I’m sorry, Marina.”

You should say something, but you can’t find it in yourself to force anything past the lump in your throat. But at least she’s not dead, right?

The two of your stay that way for decades, centuries, or maybe just a few more minutes until the tears have dried and the regrets are bubbling up in your head. You pull away.

“I kissed her."

The words are bitter on your tongue. You wonder why you feel so guilty for these emotions tearing your body apart.

Sarah stares at you, and she hugs you again briefly before saying you can talk to her about it. About what, you think, but you decide an offer to talk about nothing is better than no offer to talk about everything.

 

\--

 

When you sleep, you dream of lightning that arks down to the ground and tornadoes that rip apart the soil from the rest of the earth.

 

\--

 

You don’t make the conscious decision to avoid her. It just happens.

Nine pesters you about it, Sam tries to get you to talk to her, John tries to figure out what happened, and Adam stays out of it.

You know this is silly, but you can’t help it.

 

\--

 

The war becomes a relief, now. You wonder when the fighting became natural, and you wonder when you began to relish the taste of blood in your mouth.

You wonder if it’s because of Six.

 

\--

 

You taste ash on your tongue as your mouth opens to shout at Nine. Blood is everywhere. Her abdomen has been torn open by the kraul, and you think you can see her intestines if you squint your eyes.

You wonder if this is karma.

You wonder if you’re doomed fall in love with the people fated to die in this war.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur as the icy sensation from your fingers spreads to Six’s wound. Flesh knits itself back together, blood runs back inside her body, and once the icy sensation fades you stand up so quickly your head goes fuzzy.

“It’s okay,” she says, but you think she’s lying. She’s the one you saved you at the convent, she’s the one you’ve dreamt about for weeks, she’s the girl who picked you up and breathed courage into your lungs. You’re nothing compared to her.

“Marina, it’s okay. We can talk later.”

You wish you were able to say something. But you can’t.

Instead, you go back to the fighting because the end of the world feels better away from her than any place else.


End file.
